Chapter Text
1st Movement: Sunburn Prelude
POV: Aubrey
Against the wall to my left, Sunny is playing the electric piano.
I can’t hear him; he’s got his headphones plugged in. It means he’s either creating or practising a new piece, or just feeling self-conscious. Sound on or sound off, I love watching him. He has such elegant hands: slim and long-fingered and dextrous. The way they move across the keys is mesmerising, like water flowing over rocks and pebbles in a stream. Equally mesmerising is the look of intense concentration on his face. Together with his chosen instrument, he’s a study in monochrome, ink-dark hair and eye(s) contrasting against the paleness of his skin.
Maybe I’m being unusually poetic here, but Sunny really is a piece of art. In his element like this, he’s… beautiful.
I never thought he would pick up an instrument again after Mari’s death. So it came as a genuine shock when he announced he was taking piano lessons. After all, wouldn’t anything to do with that ill-fated recital just remind him of his trauma? Even if he got past that, I’d imagine violin would be his natural choice, right? But according to him, playing the piano is a cathartic experience. Apparently his therapist encouraged the idea, as a way to connect with his sister and reconcile with her loss.
Of course, it helps that music comes naturally to him. Innate talent runs in the Suzuki family; Mari’s perfectionism simply took that to absurd heights. While I’m far from the best judge of musical ability – Kel accuses me of being tone-deaf, goddammit – I think Sunny’s really good on the piano. (An opinion that Basil shares.) Whenever he lets us listen to him play, that is.
A minute or so later, it seems like he’s done. After flicking off the power switch, he removes his headphones and sets them down on top of the speakers. Then he pads over to the couch and joins me here, brushing against my shoulder as he tucks himself into his customary left corner.
I give him a curious look. “What were you playing, Sunshine?”
“Oh, just a little piece I’ve been working on,” Sunny answers in his soft, pleasant tenor. “It’s in G major, adagio, common time. Starts with looping major sevenths, then transitions with an augmented triad into the E minor relative.”
Since I haven’t the faintest clue what he’s talking about, I just nod along. “Aren’t you gonna play it for me?”
Overcome with sudden shyness, Sunny shakes his head. His raven hair flutters about his face; he’s grown it out to chin-length. I gotta say the look befits his title as a liberal arts student, and it’s also very, very attractive on him.
“It’s… not quite ready yet.”
“Fair enough,” I say airily. No need to put pressure on him, after all.
We lapse into a comfortable silence. Picking up a dropper bottle from the nearby coffee table, Sunny applies some drops to his prosthetic eye. It’s indistinguishable from his natural one, unless I pay close attention to the lack of tracking movement, or the visible scarring across his right eyelid. While the sight unnerved me at first, I’ve grown used to it by now.
“You’ve been sitting here for a while, ‘Bree,” he remarks after a minute or so.
‘Bree. It was Basil who coined that rare derivative of my name; ‘Aubs’ and ‘Auby’ are the more common ones. Sunny adopted the pet name later on, when we started dating. I love the sound of it on his lips, even if it tends to come with obnoxious cheese puns.
“I like watching you play, even without sound,” I admit. “And… I’ve also been doing some thinking.”
“Hmm?”
Leaning back against the couch, I let my gaze drift towards the ceiling. It seems I’m in a rather sombre mood this afternoon. “Sunny, did you ever imagine life would turn out like this? You, me, Basil. Together.”
“Seems like a pipe dream, doesn’t it?” Sunny’s already soft voice grows softer still with wonder.
“No kidding. If you told me this would happen – I dunno, some four years ago when you and Basil ended up in hospital – I would’ve said you were batshit crazy.” I turn towards my second boyfriend. “Hell, I did think I was batshit crazy for agreeing to date both of you at once.”
“And you told us we were equally batshit crazy; I remember your words.” His lips curl in a small smile, and there’s a sparkle in his eye. “That was… an interesting time.”
“Bit of an understatement there?” I huff. In hindsight, that particular series of events might be amusing, but it certainly wasn’t at the time. “Y’know, it’s funny how all of this started because you accidentally saw Basil in my pink nightgown. Seems almost like a joke. A stupid plot device in a badly written romcom. I make that comparison a lot, don’t I?”
“Mhm.”
Said accident was inevitable, given our cohabiting situation. Sunny ended up back in town because his arts college was closer to Faraway than his city residence. And Basil – being the kind and hospitable person who he is – decided to accommodate him for the duration of his studies. Since Basil had inherited the house through his grandma’s will, it was his to do as he pleased. Only through his generosity did I become his permanent houseguest in the first place, so I kept my misgivings to myself. Sunny joining us seemed like a harmless enough arrangement.
Until then.
“Was that the turning point?” I ask. “When you realised you liked Basil that way?”
Sunny shakes his dark head. “It was before that. Not long after he confessed to me that he loved you. Seeing him in your nightgown just made my own feelings impossible to deny.”
“Yeah, you couldn’t have been more blatant about it,” I snort. “You looked like you wanted to eat him up. Christ, I got so fucking territorial.”
I’ll never forget the scene I walked into. Basil stood frozen in the kitchen, face tomato-red and knees locked together and glass of milk forgotten in his hand. Out of laziness, he had thrown on the nearest article of clothing – my pink nightgown – and left our bedroom to get himself a drink. His lapse in fashion sense was caught by Sunny, who chose that particular morning to forgo his usual habit of sleeping in. He was staring at Basil with shameless abandon, eye sweeping up and down the other boy’s scantily clad figure and lingering on his long, loose curls. That raw hunger in his expression was something I knew all too well.
Boy oh boy, was I livid. My inner harpy definitely came out then, complete with claws and profanity-ridden screeching. Under normal circumstances, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about people having designs on my (very pretty and very effeminate) boyfriend. However, the fact that it was Sunny made it extremely problematic. One, there was the matter of our ongoing cohabitation. The second reason was far more personal. A lot of my angst stemmed from the simple knowledge that Basil – despite entering into a relationship with me – still harboured feelings for Sunny. As it turned out, my misgivings were justified, because those feelings were not unrequited at all.
The most ironic part? Throughout our rivalry, I failed to notice all the hungry glances Sunny shot in my direction as well.
“I felt so bad about it,” Sunny admits, voice quiet. “Until then, I managed to keep my feelings – for both you and him – a secret. I really didn’t mean to intrude on your relationship.”
Sweet baby Jesus, how long had he been voluntarily third-wheeling at that point? Seeing me and Basil together – hell, hearing us bang in the other room; the walls are far from soundproof – would’ve been fucking torture. Could he be any more masochistic?
“It could’ve turned into an absolute wreck, huh? I’m glad it didn’t.” Gnawing on my lower lip, I lower my gaze. “I’m still sorry for screaming at you and kicking you out.”
Sunny dismisses my apology with a gentle shake of his head. “It’s understandable.”
“Good thing we talked it over after that, huh?”
“Mhm.”
Maybe my jealous rage was to be expected, but it still left Sunny homeless all of a sudden. (It also got Basil and I into one hell of a lover’s spat that resulted in me giving my very distressed boyfriend the cold shoulder.) Thank God for Kel. He came to Sunny’s rescue, letting him stay over at his place while I blew off steam.
Afterwards, we sat down and negotiated things. Our emotions were all running high; in no way did I act like the calm, rational adult I was supposed to be. Basil and Sunny were far more understanding than I gave them credit for. Next to them, I felt like a distraught child throwing a tantrum because my favourite (boy)toy was taken away. If only I realised that it was about to be returned to me twofold.
“Y’know, it’s funny how I’m the most insecure person in our relationship. I was so afraid Basil would leave me for you. But he said he wanted to be with both of us. Then you went ahead and said the same thing, though you would back off if I weren’t also on board with the idea. I was so gobsmacked that I ended up agreeing to it.”
I must have sounded more despondent than I thought, because a crease forms between Sunny’s brows. “Do you regret your decision?”
“Not at all!” I say quickly, wanting to lay that particular doubt to rest. “If I did, you would’ve known a lot earlier, trust me. I think that was the best decision I’ve made in my life. And yet—” I falter, hesitant.
“—you’re… not happy?” he finishes for me.
I study the frown on Sunny’s face. There’s no judgment in it, only patience and concern. He’s inviting me to explain myself further, as though he wants nothing more than to explore the workings of my troubled mind. In all the time that we’ve known each other, this part of him has stayed the same, to my endless gratitude. I’ve always liked how easy it is to talk to him.
So I unblock my mental dam and let my worries spill from my mouth.
“That’s the thing, see. I’m too happy. So happy, in fact, that I’m scared everything’s just an illusion that would shatter one day. Maybe I’d screw up, and you and Basil would decide you’ve had enough of me and run off together.” I let out a harsh sigh. “It’s irrational, I know. You’ve done nothing but prove your love and loyalty to me. Both of you.”
Sunny’s frown deepens. “‘Bree, I wouldn’t date you – let alone sleep with you – if I didn’t genuinely want to.”
“I know, Sunny!” The words escape me in a sudden, uncontrolled outburst. Catching myself in the next moment, I lower my voice. “I know. But for some reason, I can’t shake off this fear. What if you don’t love the actual me, but rather my sweet, innocent self who stole your heart all those years ago?
“I’m not her,” I continue, well and truly ensnared in my spiral of moroseness. “I’ll never be her again. After Mari died, I became such a horrible person. A monster. So angry and bitter and violent. I treated all of you like shit. I was so cruel to Basil! That’s not someone who deserves forgiveness, let alone love.”
“But you aren’t her either, are you?” Sunny asks softly.
“I can only pray to God that I’ve changed for the better since then.”
“You have.”
The look Sunny is giving me shines with the enormity of his faith in me. But I can’t bear it – lest I repay him with disappointment – so I shift my gaze down into my lap.
“Have I? I’ve tried really hard to right my wrongs, but is everything I’ve done enough?” Curling my hands, I examine the chipped pink polish on my fingernails. “Do I really deserve this happiness?”
“You know, I often wonder that about myself.”
My attention snaps back to Sunny in an instant. “You do?”
His eye captures mine once more. There’s something intent glittering in those ink-dark depths. “Aubrey… you realise there’s no one who understands you more than me and Basil, right? We did awful things. I killed Mari, and he staged her suicide. We hid the truth for four years. Are such crimes deserving of forgiveness?”
I guess his experience isn’t very different from mine, huh? The three of us are all broken, weighed down with horrendous guilt. But there was no true malice in Sunny’s actions – or Basil’s, for that matter – unlike mine. Now that the dust has long since settled, it’s beyond unreasonable to hold a grudge against him for something he’d never meant to do.
“Yes! I’ve forgiven you a long time ago! And so have Kel and Hero!”
“Just as Basil has forgiven you,” Sunny rebuffs me gently. “In the end, ‘Bree, it comes down to forgiving yourself.”
“That’s much easier said than done,” I argue. God knows I’ve tried.
Sunny’s eyelids drift shut. “I know, trust me.”
Struggling with self-acceptance – that’s another dilemma we share. But even if I can forgive myself, is that truly the solution to my ennui? Having had a harder life than most, I’ve learned not to accept any kind of good fortune at face value. Maybe I’m being overly suspicious, but I can’t help but feel that things have fallen a little too easily into my lap.
“The fact that we’re here together is a miracle I’ll never understand.”
My statement causes Sunny to reopen his eyes. “Wanna hear my thoughts?”
What’s the harm in that? “Shoot.”
“We worked hard to get here. We learned from our mistakes. We went through a long, difficult journey to heal and reconcile with each other. We became closer friends, and that eventually turned into love.”
I let out a huff of disbelief. If only life could be boiled down to the simple equation of effort goes in, reward comes out. Since when has positive karma been anything more than wishful thinking?
“Are you saying we earned our happy ending?”
Sunny crooks a wry eyebrow. “Sounds cheesy, doesn’t it, ‘Bree?”
Christ, that pun was godawful. But I appreciate his attempt at levity, even if it’s wasted on me right now. “Damn right. If I were a good person, maybe I’d believe it.”
In an effort to reassure me, Sunny reaches for my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine. “Aubrey, you’re not a bad person.”
“But I’m nothing like the little girl you fell in love with!” I protest.
Sunny stays silent for a long moment; I can imagine the cogs turning in his head as he deliberates over his answer. “It’s unfair to compare your two selves,” he finally says, giving my hand a little squeeze. “So much has changed. Your innocence is long gone. But your sweetness and honesty and loyalty are still there. Maybe you don’t agree with me, but I think that little girl is still alive in you. Especially now.”
His words strike an acute pang in my heart, and I find myself unable to meet his gaze. “Sure you aren’t saying this ‘cause you’re getting laid on the regular?”
With startling abruptness, Sunny withdraws his hand, compelling me to look back at him. Indignation is plain across his scrunched-up features. “That wasn’t an attempt to flatter you. I’m being sincere.”
My shoulders slump. I’d meant to make a joke, but it came out too dismissive, didn’t it? Receiving compliments is something I’ve never been good at, thanks to my shitty upbringing that resulted in shittier self-esteem. It’s easier to believe they’re only ever meant in jest – so that I can repartee in equally scathing fashion – because there’s no way I actually deserve them.
“I know. I’m sorry, Sunny; that was uncalled for. I just… find it so hard to accept your feelings, even after all this time.”
His expression melts. “I understand. I don’t share the same history you have with Basil. But I see you for who you’ve become, Aubrey. Someone I love very much.”
He leans over to brush his lips against my cheek. It’s an affectionate little gesture he’s made countless times, yet I shiver at the contact.
“T-Thanks, S-Sunny,” I croak, my throat tight all of a sudden. “I love you too. I just… feel so dumb for needing all this reassurance.”
His gaze is filled with incredible tenderness. “It’s okay.”
In a wordless request for comfort and reconciliation, I open up my arms. Sunny doesn’t hesitate to respond, surging forward to capture me into his embrace. We stay like this for several minutes, inhaling each other’s familiar scents – Sunny has a sweeter, subtler musk compared to Basil’s earthy one – and savouring the warm press of our bodies. I’m not a demonstrative person by nature; in this respect, being with my boyfriends has done a lot to bring me out of my shell. Even so, I must admit that there’s nothing more pleasant than holding and being held by someone you love.
Now that my better mood is restored, I slowly untangle myself from my lover. A long, noisy sigh escapes me. Christ, that was one heavy conversation. While the hug helped a lot, a little booze wouldn’t go amiss either.
“I need a goddamn beer after all that.”
Sunny jerks his head in the direction of the kitchen, a silent urge for me to go.
I give in to the impulse without a second thought. Wandering over to the fridge, I open it and pull out a six-pack. Then I unseal a can and pour at least half of its malty contents down my throat. Ah, blessed alcoholic relief.
I eye my boyfriend on the couch. “Want one, Sunshine?”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
With beer in hand, I return to Sunny’s side and resume my seat. He accepts the proffered drink with a muttered thanks.
“Wonder when Basil’s getting home? That’s one helluva long grocery shopping trip. Our fridge isn’t that empty.”
The snap and sizzle of Sunny’s opened can fills the air. “He probably stopped by Fix-It and got distracted by the flowers.”
My mind conjures the image of our blond boyfriend puttering about the warehouse garden, a serene smile on his face as he coos over the magnolias. “That sounds like Basil alright. Maybe I should’ve gone with him.”
“There’s always next time. Besides, you would’ve missed this riveting heart-to-heart with me.”
Delivered in the driest of tones, Sunny’s statement makes me snort into my drink. After taking a moment to recover, I turn an accusatory glare onto him. The amused glint in his eye is far too unrepentant for my liking.
I ignore it in favour of discussing our favourite person. “Speaking of Basil, I’ve always wanted to know something. Well, I have some idea, but I’d rather hear it from your mouth. What is it that you find attractive about him?”
Sunny takes a swig of his beer. “You know… That’s something I’ve always been confused about, because I’m pretty sure I’m not into guys. If I were, I’d find Kel and Hero attractive, right?”
Christ, is Sunny using our mutual friends as indicators for his sexuality litmus test? If Kel ever got wind of this, he’ll never let us live it down. Especially when I’m about to admit the next part:
“Yeah, by all accounts they’re pretty damn hot. If you ignore how Hero’s like an older brother and Kel’s annoying personality, that is.”
It’s Sunny’s turn to snort into his drink. “That’s the thing. I know they’re objectively good-looking, but I can’t see them that way. Whereas, with Basil…”
“It’s almost as if you’re making an exception for him?”
“Yeah. The things that I like about him...” He screws up his features in frustration. “Dammit, I don’t wanna sound like I’m fetishising him.”
Shaking my can to empty its remaining contents into my mouth, I set it down on the nearby table. ‘Fetishising’… now that’s a very curious choice of word. Dude surely can’t leave me hanging after that!
“I promise I won’t judge, okay? Give it a shot?”
“Well, if you insist…” Resting his own can on his knee, Sunny proceeds to stare at it pensively. “Basil is… soft. He’s kind and gentle. He puts other people’s feelings first. He’s always doing thoughtful little things, and he goes out of his way to care for you and lift your spirits. He tries to see the good in everything. And his mannerisms are so… dainty and delicate.”
“That’s not what I’d call fetish material,” I point out. From the way Sunny agonised about it, I was expecting something far more lewd in nature. However, falling in love with someone’s personality is square in vanilla, romantic territory. “You’re just saying he’s feminine, which everyone agrees with, by the way.”
The frown on Sunny’s face deepens. “Is it wrong for me to like him because he’s feminine?”
I raise a perplexed eyebrow at him. “Dunno how you got that into your head, but hella no? If anything, it means you like Basil for who he is. Of course, the matter of who he is makes up an entire discussion in itself.”
Sunny blinks owlishly at me as he sips from his can. “Indeed.”
Given that we’ve never talked about it before, I wonder how well acquainted he is with the giant question mark of Basil’s gender identity? “You’re not the only person who’s noticed how much... girlier he’s become over the past few years.”
In one long gulp, Sunny knocks back the remainder of his drink. “If I didn’t know him, I’d definitely mistake him for a girl, yeah. He’s already slender and pretty to begin with, and now his hair’s so long.” He sets his can aside.
Having grown past his shoulders, Basil’s hair is typically put up in a ponytail nowadays. It decisively tips the scale of his appearance from androgynous into outright feminine. Combined with other changes, this isn’t a coincidence so much as an intentional act – to reconstruct his image.
“That, and he wears a skirt most days. He’s certainly not discouraging the impression. People call him ‘miss’ and use female pronouns all the time. He doesn’t bother correcting them.” Because no correction is needed, I suppose.
“Do you know if he’s just playing the part?” Sunny muses. “Or does he actually want to be recognised as a girl?”
Resting my chin against my knuckles, I cast my mind back to a handful of late-night conversations. Basil was a stammering ball of anxiety then, deathly afraid of my rejection. It took a lot of coaxing and reassurance to get him to divulge his feelings. Given that I turned Kim down on the basis of not being into girls – not that Basil strictly identifies as one, per se – he had legitimate grounds for concern. To our combined relief, it transpired that I’m rather less straight than I thought.
I’m really sorry, Kim. I just never saw you that way.
“I’ve talked to him about this a few times. At first I thought he just liked borrowing my clothes, but it runs a lot deeper than that? Apparently girl’s clothes make him feel more like his true self or something. I really dunno.”
Sunny’s lips purse in a thoughtful frown. “You don’t think Basil’s… actually a girl inside?”
I shake my head. “He’s said that’s not exactly it, but close enough? It’s hard to explain when I don’t really get it myself.”
“To be honest, I don’t think I get it either.”
“He doesn’t mind if we continue calling him ‘he’,” I elaborate further, “though we’re also welcome to use ‘she’ or ‘they’. I’ve given ‘she’ a shot, but I doubt I can actually make the switch. I’m so used to calling Basil ‘he’ and thinking of him as a guy. If I try something else, it just feels… I dunno, weird? Like my brain goes nope and automatically corrects it.”
Sunny nods in understanding. “I get what you mean. It’s probably because we grew up only knowing Basil as a guy.”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s easy enough to introduce him as my girlfriend in public since he definitely looks the part. Strangers sure as hell can’t tell the difference. But there’s still some fundamental disconnect in my head.” I expel a sigh. How matter how hard I try, rewiring this deeply ingrained habit seems like a futile exercise. “Have you done that, by the way? Called him your ‘girlfriend’?”
“No. He’s always worn unisex clothes when we’re out alone.” Sunny’s frown returns, as though he’s bothered by the implications of this observation. “Maybe he’s not comfortable showing that side of himself to me yet.”
“It’s ‘cause he’s scared you’d reject him,” I explain. “See, he and I already went through this… whatever-you-call-this phase before you came into the picture. I was the one who introduced him to crossdressing, after all. Though, he’s not exactly crossdressing anymore, is he?”
Comprehension dawns on Sunny’s face. “You’re right. He isn’t.”
All of a sudden, uncertainty overtakes me, churning uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. “You… don’t have any issue with this side of Basil, do you?” I probe, fixing my second boyfriend with the most serious of stares. “It doesn’t change your opinion of him as a romantic partner, does it?”
Sunny returns my stare with equal seriousness. “Not in the slightest.”
Hearing those words fills me with such profound relief that I sag under its weight. I really don’t want to know how I would’ve reacted had he provided anything other than confirmation.
“Glad to know you’re on board, Sunshine. Because we oughta love and accept Basil for who he is, boy or girl or whatever.”
“I can’t agree more,” Sunny says earnestly. “Though I wish I knew how to broach this subject with him.”
I frown at him. “Y’know, that bugs me. The fact that you haven’t talked to him about this. You two aren’t fully comfortable with each other yet.”
There’s an uneasy cast to Sunny’s features. “…I guess not.”
“But you’re really comfortable with me,” I point out, both worried and puzzled at this particular disparity between our relationships. “You’re relaxed around me in a way that you aren’t with him. Even though you and him have been closer friends for longer.”
“It’s hard to be uncomfortable with someone you’re already intimate with.”
My eyes narrow. What’s with that blithe, deliberately obtuse answer? “As if to say that you and Basil aren’t?”
I didn’t mean for my retort to be anything more than sarcastic, but Sunny jolts and freezes up beside me. He has the distinct look of a deer caught in headlights.
Christ, this is quite the troublesome revelation, isn’t it? Not that I haven’t suspected it, what with this weird, palpable tension that I keep sensing between them both. Under different circumstances, the more sordid details of Sunny’s and Basil’s relationship wouldn’t be my business. Except it is. Because the three of us are all in this together.
Fuck it, I won’t bother beating around the bush. I’m just gonna ask the goddamn question so that I can get a definite answer:
“Sunny, have you had sex with Basil?”
If it weren’t already obvious before, my boyfriend’s alarmed expression gives him dead away. He ducks his head, revealing a pink tinge to his ears. “…Not yet.”
“I knew it,” I sigh with ever-so-great disappointment. “Goddammit Sunshine, I’ve left you two alone so many times. Don’t tell me you wasted all those opportunities?” I direct an exasperated glare at him.
He wilts under my scrutiny. “…I get too nervous.”
Well, confidence has never been Sunny’s forte. Feeling somewhat sympathetic for him, I dial back the intensity of my glare. “How far have you gone with him?”
“Just kissing and cuddling.”
How infuriatingly… tame. “Are you guys still not ready?”
“I am,” Sunny admits after a beat. “Not sure about him, though.”
“Pretty sure it’s also a ‘yes’, but that’s easy enough to find out. Either ways—” I poke him in the arm none-too-gently, earning a wince, “—you’re gonna need to make the first move.”
“It was you who initiated sex between you and him, right?” Sunny asks, ignoring my demand.
“Obviously,” I scoff. “This is Basil we’re talking about. If I left things up to him, it would never have happened.”
There’s amusement in the twitch of Sunny’s lips. “That’s true.”
I slap my palm against my forehead. “Geez, you two really are hopeless. Always leaving it to me to take charge.”
Whatever little mirth fades from Sunny’s face as he shrinks back into his seat. “I just… don’t have your confidence.”
“And what would give you more confidence?” I round on him. “Extra booze? Being horny enough? Does seeing him in a skirt help?”
He gives the tiniest of shrugs. “I’ve already seen that many times.”
“And it doesn’t do anything for you? Or has the novelty worn off?”
Sunny shakes his head. “It’s more to do with his choice of skirts. They look nice on him. But they’re not exactly… exciting.”
Well, he’s got a point. Basil’s preferences lean towards the decidedly unadventurous end of the spectrum. His limited skirt wardrobe comprises of pleated, flare or drape styles in various solid colours and flower prints. The most crucial factor? None of them are shorter than knee-length. Sure, they might be comfy and practical and even feminine, but they lack the necessary risqué quality, alas. It doesn’t help that he tends to pair them with plain, nondescript T-shirts, either.
“True. I can try to persuade him… but I doubt he’d want to wear my pink nightgown again.”
That notorious garment certainly gets a reaction from Sunny in all the times I’ve worn it. But even if Basil can get over its scanty, indecent appearance, its association with certain… tense and awkward memories would probably deter him. To think that I’d nearly broken up with him then, over the same (accidental) instigator sitting right before me.
“A terrible shame,” Sunny deadpans.
“For sure it is,” I concur with a roll of my eyes. Then a flash of inspiration occurs to me. “Hey, what do you think of him in a dress?”
This causes Sunny’s eye to widen noticeably. “Can you honestly convince him to wear one?”
“Just answer the question, Sunshine,” I reproach, waggling my finger at him. “Basil in a dress. Yes or no?”
Ears glowing pink once more, Sunny averts his gaze. “…Yes.” It’s amazing how that single word can convey so much eagerness even in the midst of his embarrassment.
Well, it seems like I’ve hit the jackpot! “Do you have something in mind?”
He lifts his shoulder in an exaggerated shrug. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to describe it. I’m not an expert on women’s fashion.”
Such a typical guy copout. While I’m no trend follower, I do have some expertise on the subject. “Maybe something girly with lace and frills? Or a body-hugging halter-neck that exposes half his back?” Tantalising as that mental image is, it’s far too revealing for Basil’s modest sensibilities. “No, I’m getting ahead of myself. A simple button-down that ends in a flare skirt? I hate buttons, though…”
Were it coming from anyone else, I’d describe the look Sunny’s giving me as accusatory. “You’re giving this an awful lot of thought.”
“Gotta flesh out some details on this fantasy, right?” I retort, unrepentant. Then a second lightbulb goes off in my head. “Oh, I got it! A pinafore dress. Like his beloved overalls but it ends in a skirt.”
This earns an approving nod from my companion. “That sounds like something he might be comfortable in.”
“Yeah. The skirt’s gotta be short, though. For—” I bare my teeth in a wicked grin, “—accessibility purposes. And maybe he could wear a blouse with puffy sleeves underneath? And stockings or thigh-high socks? Mary-Jane kitten heels?”
“Now you’re the one turning Basil into a fetish.” In spite of his reprimand, there’s an interested glint in Sunny’s eye.
“Don’t play coy with me, Sunshine; you like where this is going. How’s this for the finishing touch: he’s wearing cute lacy panties. White with lots of little love hearts. But only you and I know that,” I add in a conspiratorial whisper.
If the undisguised hunger on Sunny’s face is any indication, I’ve successfully captivated my audience of one. Score!
“Now imagine,” I resume at a normal volume, “you’re out in public with him. You find a secluded corner, away from prying eyes. So you slip your hand under his skirt and touch the inside of his thighs. He shivers. You move upwards and brush your fingers over his panties. You caress his dick through the soft fabric.”
Sunny doesn’t reply; he’s completely immersed in the story I’m weaving for our entertainment. As I scoot still closer to him, I note how his chest rises and falls more rapidly than before.
“‘What are you doing, Sunny?’ he’ll cry out in panic,” I continue, making an approximation of our mutual lover’s voice. “He’s blushing like crazy. You know that blush; he goes red like a tomato and his freckles stand out. He’s trying to wriggle away from you. But his body betrays him. He’s arching his hips into your hand—”
Beside me, Sunny fidgets and sucks in a very audible breath through his teeth. His fingers dig into the fabric of the pants.
“You press him against the wall. His eyes are wild, flitting back and forth. He’s scared of getting caught. But when you caress him again, he submits. He exposes his neck to you. You bend down and kiss his pulse point. You can feel how fast his heartbeat is racing against your lips—”
Sunny is visibly panting now. Even through the cotton layer of his polo shirt, his shoulder – pressed against mine – is scorching to the touch. In a deliberate motion, I lower my hand and brush the telltale bulge in his crotch. His ensuing shudder evokes a powerful satisfaction inside me, stirs the heat coiling deep in the pit of my belly.
“Christ, you’re already hard,” I murmur, unable to contain my smirk. “That really turned you on, didn’t it?”
“You have… a filthy imagination, ‘Bree,” Sunny grits out, hissing as I palm him more roughly through his pants.
“That’s just how you like me, right?” I challenge him, revealing more teeth. “See, my imagination comes from actual experience, experience you would have if you just took the opportunity to fuck Basil.”
Sunny thrusts unashamedly into my hand, and his breath exits him in short, little puffs. “Why must you... be so insistent… about this?”
Without warning, I withdraw my touch, earning a delicious noise of frustration from him. “Because I’m tired of your unresolved sexual tension. Get it out of your systems already, goddammit!”
He levels a defiant scowl at me. “Or else what?”
The bratty little fucker! Not that Sunny’s little or malnourished anymore. It took only a year outside of Faraway Town for him to snag a growth spurt and gain his three-inch height advantage over me. Poor Basil received no such fortune; of the three of us, he remains the smallest.
In any case, I’m not about to let Sunny get away with this insolence. “Do you really me to strip you both naked and lock you in the bedroom?”
Instead of replying, my boyfriend hooks his arm around my waist and pulls me none-too-gently towards him. The sudden movement startles me for a brief second; I quickly rearrange myself so that I’m straddling his knees.
“I didn’t think s—”
Any further commentary I might have provided is silenced by his mouth smothering mine. Okay, now Sunny’s cheating, no question about it. If he’s resorting to distraction in an effort to avoid my question, that means he has no worthy comebacks up his sleeve. Well, two can play at this game.
In the end, I’m always the one who wins our contests of dominance.
At least Sunny makes a token protest before caving in; Basil just surrenders outright. Not that I’m complaining either way; quite the opposite. There’s nothing I find more erotic than my boys offering themselves up to me, begging for my touch and attention. As someone who prefers to be in control, I revel in their willing vulnerability. Trust is a fragile thing; placing it within my care in such an intimate way drives me berserk with want.
Perhaps Sunny has just remembered his place in our dynamic, because his boldness stops here. He’s clearly worked up; his lips move over mine with heated fervour, and his hands are flying all over my midriff, caressing whatever exposed skin they can find. But he doesn’t make any attempt to go further. Not to peel off my clothes or work his fingers underneath either waistband to reach more illicit places.
Although this is far from our first sexual encounter, there’s still hesitation in his actions. It’s thanks to that same maddening lack of confidence he mentioned earlier. I’m sure sufficient practise will fix that – including this session right now. In the meantime, it’s up to me to take charge once more.
Curling one hand around his shoulder and sliding the other behind his nape, I weave my fingers through his long, silky hair. Then I crush our bodies together and grind down ever so deliberately on his clothed erection. The contact sends a pleasurable thrill up my spine, which is only heightened by the way Sunny groans against me, low and needy. He puts up no resistance as I breach his lips with my tongue, parting them still wider to receive me inside.
With savage abandon, I plunder the interior of his mouth. He tastes intoxicating, a combination of the beer we had only scant minutes ago and something distinctly Sunny. Then his tongue meets and intertwines with mine. For the next minute, we engage in a hot, slippery dance, one that lights a fire under my skin and makes moisture pool between my legs. Meanwhile, Sunny’s hands have ceased their aimless exploration, transforming into vices that clutch my hips so tight it verges on pain. He’s bringing them down repeatedly against his, triggering burst after sweet burst every time our groins come together.
Then I withdraw my tongue only to thrust it back inside Sunny’s mouth, imitating the rhythmic movement of our lower halves. A beautiful series of moans escapes from him as I repeat the motion over and over. The sounds echo through my mouth and across my body in waves that only inflame the fiery throb between my thighs. For such a quiet, soft-spoken man, Sunny is surprisingly vocal in the heat of passion (and Basil even more so). It’s the hottest thing ever.
I disengage my mouth from his, eliciting a disappointed whimper from him. In compensation, I press little fluttery kisses along his jaw. Sunny responds with an enthralling show of submission, tossing his head back and exposing his neck to me. Excitement surges through me, accelerating my heartrate; he’s learned this little trick to get me going. With no hesitation whatsoever, I latch onto his delicate skin, suckling enthusiastically before sinking in my teeth. Then I soothe over the wound with gentle licks and repeat the process elsewhere.
With each love-bite I inflict upon him, Sunny hisses and a violent shudder wracks his body. His features are twisted in ostensible pain, but the way he’s steadily rocking up against me indicates that he enjoys this. Being marked is a particular kink of his, one that I’m more than happy to indulge. Though I’m not sure whether it’s my possessiveness or the lingering evidence or the sensation itself that arouses him. Maybe all of the above.
When I decide I’ve had enough, I pull away to admire my handiwork. Numerous red hickeys mar the once flawless column of Sunny’s throat – visible proof that I’ve claimed my territory. Those won’t fade for a while; he’ll need concealer when he returns to college tomorrow.
I bare my teeth at him in a feral grin. “You’re mine, Sunshine.”
Something heated and intense flashes in Sunny’s ink-black eye. A low rumble issues from his throat, not unlike a cat purring.
As I brace my palm against his chest, I can feel his heart drumming through the cotton layer of his polo shirt. Suddenly the fabric is intolerable to me, a thin yet impermeable barrier that obstructs my desire to touch all of him. I want to feel Sunny’s naked skin against mine. I want there to be nothing between us but our passionate, insatiable lust for each other.
“Your clothes off. Now,” I command.
Sunny doesn’t hesitate to obey. He obligingly raises his arms as I grasp the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and away. Then I scoot backwards and rise to my feet, giving him room to unbuckle his belt and toss it aside. Saves me the trouble of fumbling with it, thank God. Hooking my fingers underneath the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs, I pull both of them off of his legs in one go. This leaves him in nothing but socks, which can stay on for all I care.
Dusting my hands in satisfaction, I take a moment to drink in the sight of my lover’s naked body.
For someone named after the sun, it’s ironic how much more he resembles his nighttime counterpart. Beneath the curtain of his midnight-black hair, Sunny’s skin is a lovely shade of luminous yellow. It forms a perfect canvas over his long, slim form, dipping and curving over fine bone and finer musculature. No doubt his lack of bulkiness is something that he’s self-conscious about, but I actually much prefer this aesthetic.
My gaze lands appreciatively on the elegant bow of his clavicle, skimming down his lean chest to his narrow waist and hips. Well-defined from all the walking he does around campus, his long legs are the only place where he sports any noticeable amount of body hair. Between them lies a nest of black curls, from which sprouts the rosy, turgid evidence of his arousal. He looks like he might belong in an erotic photography artbook, the perfect model to capture the sublime interplay of light and shadow.
If only I could convince Basil to take up that particular hobby.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Sunshine.” The compliment falls uninhibited from my lips.
He flushes all the way to his ears. “T-thanks.”
“Come on, you’ve heard me say that heaps already,” I cajole. “And you still get so bashful.”
“Can’t help it,” he mutters.
Cupping his face, I plant an affectionate kiss on his nose. “You’re adorable, you know that?”
His ears glow still redder, and I can’t help the genuine laughter that bubbles out of me. Guess I’m not the only one who has trouble accepting compliments. But I don’t dedicate any further thought to the matter; it’s now my turn to remove my clothes. In a matter of seconds, my crop top, skirt and panties fall to the ground. After unceremoniously kicking our combined pile aside, I turn back to Sunny and watch his reaction.
His cock twitches as his gaze sweeps over my now-exposed body, undisguised admiration and desire ablaze in his eye. With slow deliberation, he licks his lips, his tongue darting out and retreating in a manner that’s almost obscene.
I would never describe my body as perfect – every girl’s got body image issues, even the most gorgeous supermodels – but I know I’m not unattractive. After all, I’ve received my fair share of glances and double-takes. I’ve even been hit on, in the rare event that an interested party works up enough courage to get past my inapproachable aura. It’s a nice ego boost, I gotta admit. Nevertheless, this is one subject where no one’s opinion truly matters to me but those of my two lovers.
The knowledge that Sunny finds me sexy fills me with deep, profound gratification. All I have to do is strip down to my skin to provoke a literal rise out of him. Moreover, he doesn’t need to say a word to make me feel desired. The sheer eagerness in his body language tells me everything I could ever want to know.
Sunny’s amazing like that.
His enraptured gaze meets mine as I seat myself atop his thighs once more, trapping his erection between us. For a long moment, we simply hold each other close, revelling in the intimacy of our skin-to-skin embrace. It’s so good just to feel him like this, our bodies lovingly pressed together and my heart beating alongside his in synchronised tandem.
Then Sunny unfurls his arms from around me, and his hands rise to cup my breasts. His touch is so incredibly reverent that it makes joy sing within me even amidst the haze of lust. Bending forward, he encloses my right nipple between his lips and applies gentle suction. This sends a jolt racing through me, and a gasp tears itself from my lungs. Before I realise what I’m doing, I’ve seized a handful of his hair to pull his head down as I arch shamelessly into his mouth. But Sunny doesn’t complain at my roughness. Instead, he dutifully continues his tender ministrations, before switching over to my unattended nipple and working me into a positive frenzy.
Then his hand moves southward, feathering over my waist and hips until it reaches the juncture of my thighs. He gives me a questioning look, to which I nod impatiently. While endearing on Sunny’s part, it’s quite unnecessary to ask for permission now that we’ve come this far. As his fingers make blessed contact with my folds, I let out a little noise. This changes to a loud sigh when he brushes over them in a slow, teasing caress. Then he parts the wet, swollen flesh and finds my clit—
“Fuck—”
Bright and sweet and vivid, the pleasure that zips through me is something else. And it doesn’t stop there, for Sunny keeps rubbing circles around my sensitive bud, making me squirm and exhale sharply through my teeth. It’s not long afterwards that my vocalisations escalate to high-pitched keens. ‘Indecent’ and ‘wanton’ can only describe the way I’m grinding onto his fingers, mindlessly hungry for the magic he’s creating within me.
When it comes to the art of making me feel good, Sunny is an apt and highly motivated pupil. He’s learned very fast over the span of the recent few months that we’ve been sexually involved. Maybe this stems from a fear of disappointing me or not measuring up; it’s inevitable that he would compare his relative inexperience to Basil’s and find himself lacking. Not that I’ve fostered any kind of competition between the two, mind you.
Nevertheless, I can’t say I dislike the result. I now know for a fact that Sunny’s elegant, dextrous hands excel not only at the piano. At this present moment, he’s playing me like his goddamn instrument, using his superb coordination to wreck blissful havoc on my breast and clit at the same time.
Throughout the whole thing, Sunny’s expression barely shifts. But there’s a carnal satisfaction in the midst of his intense focus. As for me, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to think. All I can feel is the coiling pressure in my lower abdomen, coupled with the overwhelming urge to fuck him right now. I want him inside me so badly. It wouldn’t take more than a few little movements; I just need to scoot forward and get us into position. Then it’ll be glorious, glorious relief when I sink onto his hot, hard length, joining with him in the most intimate and primal of ways.
But I can’t afford to lose control. Not yet. Not this soon.
Sunny may have taken the lead in this particular contest, but the time has come to turn the tables. Resting against my inner right thigh, his erection has yet to flag despite being neglected for the past few minutes. Without preamble, I reach down and wrap my hand around the velvet flesh. His fingers stutter against me as I give him a gentle squeeze, then his eye flies wide as I steadily increase the pressure. When I switch to a stroking motion, he unlatches his mouth from my nipple to let out a loud hiss.
Now that I have him within my grasp, Sunny cannot keep his focus at all – to my smug amusement. As I continue to pump his shaft, his fingers twitch against me every so often, but he’s too distracted to maintain any kind of consistency. When I run my thumb across his sensitive head, he rewards me by screwing his eyes shut and giving a full-bodied shudder. He’s getting louder too. Breathy moans escape him with every stroke, and his head is now tossed back, displaying the mural of love-bites I left across his neck earlier.
Jesus Christ, he is so fucking hot.
Suddenly he seizes my wrist and yanks my hand away, his chest heaving with the forcefulness of his breaths.
I tilt my head in mock-curiosity. “Had enough?”
He looks at me, his eye a veritable tempest of black lust. “Can’t take it… anymore. I want—I mean, can we—?”
“Can we what, Sunny?” I drawl, feigning ignorance. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the rest of his sentence.
He mumbles something unintelligible, ears aflame.
The corner of my mouth kinks in an insufferable smirk. “Sorry, didn’t catch that. You need to speak clearly. Tell me what you want.”
His gaze flicks towards mine, and then away. He moves his lips in a silent litany. “…please fuck me,” the words tumble out of him in the tiniest of whispers.
“Hmm?” Slapping on my best poker-face, I cup my hand against my ear. “Could you say that again? Louder?”
Turning back in my direction, Sunny stares at me for one wild, incredulous moment. Then his lips peel back in a snarl that could only be described as desperate. “I want you to fuck me, ‘Bree. Please.”
The rawness in his voice sends such a potent thrill through me that it momentarily steals my breath and leaves my nipples tingling. “That’s much better, Sunshine.” I give him a consolatory pat on the head, earning an unamused frown in return. “Of course I’ll fuck you. I was going to do that all along. But I love hearing you beg for it.”
Hopping off Sunny’s lap, I reach into the drawer of the nearby coffee table, where a convenient stash of condoms resides. My boyfriends and I have fucked on this couch enough times to warrant their placement here. Everyone agreed that it’s too troublesome – not to mention it ruins the spontaneity of the moment – to rush to the bedroom just to grab some prophylactics. Pulling out a silver foil square, I tear apart the wrapper. Sunny wordlessly accepts the condom when I hand it to him, pinching the tip and rolling it down his length in a practised motion.
Making a short trip to a nearby dresser – also located here for convenience – I retrieve a towel and throw that in Sunny’s direction as well. He catches it without missing a beat, and lays it out across the seat cushions. Experience has taught me that sex is messy business; it pays to be practical about it. Getting questionable stains off the couch upholstery is definitely not worth the hassle, as I’ve discovered. Since I’m the one in charge of the laundry in this household, why make clean-up more problematic for myself?
Turning back to Sunny, I jerk my head towards the opposite end of the couch. “On your back.”
He carries out my command straightaway, laying down across the spread-out towel. This has the effect of putting his cock on full display. Flushed a deep red through the transparent latex, it juts up proudly into the air, awaiting my attention.
All the while, my lover’s gaze never leaves me. I can feel the intense burn of his combined excitement and anticipation upon my skin.
Tugging off my ribbon headband, I repurpose it into a tie and pull my hair back into a ponytail. There’s no need to catch flyaway strands in my mouth midway through coitus, after all.
Then I manoeuvre myself into Sunny’s lap and straddle his hips. Grabbing hold of his cock, I run the tip of it through my well-lubricated folds, eliciting gasps from us both. Then I align him with my entrance and lower myself down. My nerves sing as I claim him delicious inch by inch, my inner walls stretching to accomodate his girth. We let out a simultaneous groan when I sheathe him all the way to the hilt. He feels so full inside me, chasing away the empty, ravenous ache that resided there mere moments ago.
I study my lover’s face, drinking in his awe-filled, rapturous expression. “How’s it feel, Sunshine?”
“R-really g-good.” There’s a wonderfully strangled quality to his voice.
“What about this?” Bracing my hands against his shoulders, I rise up, ignoring my body’s lament as he slowly slides out of me. Then I sink down and reclaim him, searing my insides with pleasure and creating that wonderful fullness once more.
Sunny shakes his head and moans, too lost in the sensation to put together a coherent reply.
I bend down and plant a sloppy kiss on his lips, earning an equally sloppy lick in response. Then I proceed to rock back and forth against him, building up momentum and stoking the simmering fire between us into a blazing inferno.
My attempt at a less-than-frantic pace is quickly thwarted. Since we’re both so pent up, it’s impossible to hold back from going faster and harder. Already I can feel my heart hammering and sweat beading on my temples from my exertions. As much I want to savour these incredible feelings, I don’t have the restraint to draw out the act. Neither does my lover. His hands have resumed their iron grip on my hips, pulling us together on each one of my downward movements so that he can bury himself inside me as deeply as possible.
Caught underneath me in the throes of passion, Sunny is impossibly beautiful. His hair, rivulets of black ink, spills across the white towel in every direction. A lovely flush has bloomed across his collarbone and chest, and his face is slack with pleasure, his eyes heavily lidded and screwing shut on each particularly good stroke. Moans flee uninhibited from between his parted lips, intermingling with mine and the sounds of slapping flesh to create a truly lascivious cacophony. Our combined scents fills my nostrils, an intoxicating mix of sweat and musk and sex.
I am completely and utterly drunk on him.
All I want is to feel Sunny, lose myself in his increasingly fervent embrace as I sink onto his cock again and again. It strokes my innermost core, igniting continuous sparks up my spine and winding up the knot inside me ever tighter and hotter and sweeter. Struck with the sudden impulse to bring us closer, I lower my body so that it’s flush against his, dragging my over-sensitised nipples across his chest. Then I drop another sloppy kiss on my lover’s mouth; he’s too out of it to reciprocate properly.
“‘Bree,” Sunny keens through gritted teeth, “it’s… too good. I can’t… hold on. Aubrey, please.”
His right hand leaves my hip, reaching between us and finding my clit once more. Somehow, he musters enough coordination to touch me in just the right way. A few blissful strokes of his fingers is all it takes to push me over the edge.
Then the knot inside me unravels all at once, and I let out a ragged cry as euphoria washes over me. Thousands of tiny tremors ripple across my body, and my nipples stiffen to tingling peaks. My inner walls clench in pleasurable bursts around my lover’s cock, triggering his climax as well. He clutches me tight and thrusts up hard into me, the twin syllables of my name tearing from his throat in a loud groan. Ecstasy is plain in the twist of his features; he looks like he is having the most transcendent experience of his life.
Spent, we collapse together in a sweaty tangle of limbs. The next minute is spent catching our breaths, our chests rising and falling alongside our decelerating heartbeats. Bit by bit, I can feel Sunny growing softer inside me. It’s a curious – if incredibly intimate – sensation that I will never tire of. I give him an experimental squeeze; he twitches from the overstimulation. My lips curl in silent amusement; not that he can see it.
From where I had buried it in the crook of his neck, I raise my head and look at Sunny’s face. Numerous strands of his damp fringe are plastered to his forehead, obscuring his eyes. With a gentle hand, I smooth them away and tuck them behind his ears.
My lover looks at me with a steady expression. Then without any prompting whatsoever, his mouth opens to murmur four simple, heartfelt words:
“I love you, Aubrey.”
At once, I feel my insides melt, dissolving into a gentle warmth that suffuses my entire being. Both Sunny and Basil are saps like that. Post-orgasmic bliss always turns them into cute little puddles of sentimentality. Even I’m not immune to its effect, as evidenced by my reply:
“I love you too, Sunny.”
To deliver further proof of my own declaration, I shower his face with kisses. My lips flit against his forehead, across the ridge of his brows, down his nose, and over the curve of his cheeks to reach the final destination of his mouth. He accepts each and every one of my little smooches with clear enjoyment, a delighted smile accompanying the rosy blush on his skin.
When I pull away, his gaze meets mine again, adoration shining in the obsidian depths of his eye. His hand rises to cup my face, his fingers trailing across my cheek with utmost tenderness.
I feel like my heart is swollen fit to burst. All of a sudden I’m blinking rapidly, trying to clear the moisture that has welled up in my eyes.
Alas, this precious moment isn’t destined to last. With uncanny timing, an interruption arrives in the form of a familiar silhouette and jangling keys and the front door unlatching. A second later, it swings open to admit Basil, his arms laden with shopping bags.
“Guys, I’m home!”
He comes to an abrupt halt. His already-wide blue eyes grow to the size of saucers as he takes in the scene before him.
Time seems to stretch out to infinity as his gaze sweeps back and forth over Sunny’s and my naked, intertwined bodies. It’s only several heartbeats later that he returns to himself and goes completely red-faced, like a rosebud in hyper-accelerated bloom.
“Umm… I-I’ll just… go back outside for a moment.”
It appears he’s retained enough presence of mind to set the groceries down instead of letting them clatter to the floor. Then his skirt whirls in a circle as he turns around and makes his exit, shutting the door hastily behind him.
Well, this is awkward. I can’t blame Basil for walking out, despite being fully aware of all the salacious things that happen under his roof. No doubt he would’ve heard us on other occasions and kept his distance to respect our privacy, but this marks the first time he’s walked in on us proper. And he clearly wasn’t prepared for it.
Sunny and I should’ve been more discreet and taken things to the bedroom. But we didn’t. And now we have to deal with the repercussions: an embarrassed – and potentially traumatised – Basil.
Gotta cut this session of post-coital bliss short, I guess.
“Do I go console him, Sunshine?” I turn my attention back to my lover before levering myself up, finally breaking our intimate connection. “Or do you wanna?”
“Both of us?” he suggests. “But putting on clothes might be a start,” he adds dryly.